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WEARING HIM DOWN Jessa Kane

Copyright © 2019 Jessa Kane Kindle Edition All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Title Page Copyright Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Epilogue Want to read Ophelia’s story?

CHAPTER ONE

MY NAME IS Sienna and I have a problem.

A gorgeous, six-foot-three-inch problem named Grant Foster.

My hormones have been doing toe touches since the moment he strode into my life, all business, no pleasure. A mean, modern overlord who can make Wall Street roll over and beg with a flick of his dark eyebrow. Only, he’s not mean to me.

Oh no. I’m his princess.

Did I mention Grant is my stepbrother?

That seems important.

Let’s start at the beginning.

Our parents met last year, married on a whim and headed for Paris within a week. They’ve been on a whirlwind tour of planet Earth ever since.

Being that my wealthy mother was never around to begin with, I was resigned to being raised by the housekeeper, which had been the status quo since I could remember.

Grant, however, was not about to let that happen.

The morning after our parents split to France, Grant arrived with a team of muscle-bound bodyguards that are now permanently assigned to me.

Their first order of business was to make sure I was packed and transferred to Grant’s multi-million-dollar penthouse in Tribeca. At the time, I was heartbroken over my mother leaving—and frankly a little in shock that my high-powered hedge fund owner stepbrother gave two craps about my wellbeing.

I would soon find out he did care. Quite a bit.

Grant loves me. Spoils me. Loses his mind if I’m even in the vicinity of danger.

But he doesn’t love me like I love him.

I sigh and close my current assigned reading, The Art of Confident Living. I thought college would be the logical next step after I graduated high school, but Grant placed me in finishing school instead, where I’m

learning how to conduct myself like a proper upper crust lady. Instead of classes like trigonometry and nineteenth century poetry, we study things like social media grace, polished wardrobes and strategic first impressions.

Using my tiptoe, I spin my chair away from the clear, glass desk to face my bedroom. Even by my standards, this room is a palace. One wall is a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking New York Harbor. The other walls are covered in fine, black and white photography inside gilded frames. Polished floors peek out from beneath expensive oriental rugs, my giant four-poster bed sitting against the wall, fancy almost to a fault with its pink, puffy bedclothes. It looks like a cotton candy cloud.

That bed is where I dream of Grant. Where I wake up frustrated and achy.

It might as well be a torture table, the sheets made of broken glass instead of high thread count Egyptian cotton.

My cell phone beeps on the table, letting me know it’s six o’clock and every inch of my body comes alive, anticipation raising goosebumps on my arms. Every single night, my stepbrother gets home at the exact same time.

He didn’t become the lord of finance by playing fast and loose with his schedule. No, Grant is exacting and precise. He gets what he wants.

I just wish he’d want me the way I want him.

Knowing he’ll walk through my bedroom door any moment, I stand and drag a brush through my long, blonde hair. I reach for my silk robe, where it hangs in its usual spot on my desk chair—I’m not sure what stops me from putting it on, though. Maybe since my eighteen birthday came and went a week ago, I’m growing braver. My heart skips and skids as I let my hand drop from the robe. I pad toward my bed, lying across the mattress on my stomach.

In nothing but a tank top and panties.

What am I doing? Am I crazy?

Looking back over my shoulder, I realize my butt cheeks hang out of my boy shorts and start to lunge off the bed, intending to put on my robe like a decent upstanding citizen— But I hear the telltale creak outside my door.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” I whisper.

Coming up with no other options, I flop down on the bed and pretend to be asleep.

You know, like a totally mature, worldly eighteen-year-old.

The door opens slowly and that ticklish sensation hits between my legs.

It’s his scent. Bourbon poured over ice, topped with mint. There’s no reason why that smell should appeal to me. I’ve never had an alcoholic beverage in my life. I’ve often dreamed of tasting that combination of menthol and liquor from his tongue, though. Too many times.

It’s a ridiculous dream. My gorgeous, thirty-three-year-old, millionaire, bachelor stepbrother has only moved me into his home because there’s compassion lurking deep inside him, underneath the cold exterior. Either that, or having an abandoned half-sibling running around untethered in New York City could be bad for his reputation on the off chance I land myself in trouble. Whatever the reason I’ve found myself under Grant’s care, I should be grateful and stop wishing he’d kiss me. Or touch me.

If he did, I swear I wouldn’t tell a soul.

I feel the slightest hesitation in Grant’s step when he walks into my bedroom. Don’t clench your butt cheeks, I order myself. As if this could get any more embarrassing. Trying to tempt my stepbrother—I should be ashamed of myself.

And maybe I’ll locate that shame…tomorrow.

Right now, I can do nothing but soak up the feeling of his gaze riding up the backs of my naked thighs and lingering on my half-exposed bottom, my cheeks cut in half by purple polka dots. Any second now, he’ll turn and leave the room and we’ll never speak of this again. Only, he doesn’t leave. I hold my breath as he circles around the back of me, stopping. He releases a long, slow exhale, then returns to my side in two measured steps. The robe is draped over me.

“Sienna.”

I blink like a cartoon owl, sit up and scramble into my robe. Where I should have been in the first place. “Oh hey! What time is it?”

Grant’s brows arch over midnight blue eyes. He’s wearing a tie that matches them perfectly today, tucked into a pressed black suit. Power rolls off him like plumes of smoke. Looking up at him from my kneeling position on the bed, I could be praying to God. If God was sinfully handsome with black, close-cropped hair and kept secrets hidden behind his eyes. His shoulders are so wide they block everything else out, his chest and stomach in ruthless shape. He’s sturdy in a way that dares me to get a

running jump and wrap myself around him. My stepbrother is slightly too handsome to be a beast, but there is something animalistic about the way he watches me. Unless that’s just my wishful thinking injury acting up again.

“You never fall asleep at this time, Sienna. What has made you overtired?”

If he only knew the rush I get when he says my name, he would probably stop. It’s like someone teasing me with a feather from the inside.

“I was up late last night studying for my social etiquette exam,” I lie. “I guess the lack of sleep caught up with me.”

“I will speak with your instructors. You require eight hours of sleep.” A muscle ticks in his cheek and he reaches for the cell phone tucked inside his suit jacket. “Perhaps I should arrange for private tutoring.”

“Oh no,” I breathe, reaching out to stay his hand. “Please don’t do that.

I’d miss everyone at the finishing school.”

“Would you?” He takes a single step closer to the bed. We’re still separated by a good foot and a half, but that one step might as well bring our bodies flush. I swallow a whimper and feel his scent sink deeper and deeper into my blood stream. “I assume you’re talking about missing your girlfriends. Considering there are no male instructors, students or faculty members.”

I swallow. “Yes.” “That was my first order of business when I purchased the school and hand placed you there. Only females would breathe the same air as you. No males, save me and your security team. That won’t be changing.”

“Yes, I know, Grant.”

Do I imagine the way his eyelids droop when I say his name? “You say you would miss everyone at the finishing school.” His brow furrows. “Does that mean you’re lonely at home?”

“No, of course not,” I hedge. I’m not lonely, exactly. Not with Grant around. But I wouldn’t mind a friend my age to talk to once in a while.

And he seems to know it. Of course he does. This man misses nothing.

“Because if there is a friend in particular you’d like to come over, I will allow it,” he says, cutting a glance toward the window. “If it makes you happy.”

My mouth stretches into a smile. “Really?”

His attention returns to me sharply and he clears his throat—hard.

“Every pupil has been vetted, along with their families and close friends.

Nonetheless, whoever you choose will still be watched very closely.” At his sides, both fists clench and release. “I don’t trust anyone with my princess.”

I try and hide the fact that moisture is pooling between my legs.

Princess, he calls me. I know he means it as an endearment between stepsiblings, but I hear it differently. I hear it the way a lover would, whether it’s right or wrong. “Thank you, Grant. I’ll think about inviting someone over.”

He nods briskly.

Several moments tick by as we stare at one another.

“Do you want your hug now?” I whisper, just in case my dozen security guards can hear us through the door.

Grant’s big chest starts to rise and fall. Fast. Fast. His jaw looks like it might shatter. “Yes.” Anticipation is tossed around in my belly like powder puffs. Don’t read anything into the daily hugs. I’ve told myself this hundreds of times. Ever since the first evening Grant came to my room and we performed the ritual, I’ve been reminding myself not to paint some romantic idea of how we touch. My stepbrother is a closed off man who works constantly. He trusts no one. As far as I know, he doesn’t date—please, please let that last part be accurate. Basically, Grant has no use for humans, unless they’re making him money.

Or so he lets the world believe.

With me, once a day, he lets his guard down and absorbs the human contact the rest of us need to be happy. To survive. He’s chosen me to give him that few minutes of comfort and I’m not going to twist our act of love into something sexual. As badly as I might want it to be.

I walk toward him on my knees, arms outstretched. He used to feign indifference during this part, but he doesn’t any longer. Now, his pupils dilate, turning his blue eyes black. His breath shudders in and out through his nose, faster and faster the closer I come. And when I finally wrap my arms around his neck, he groans into the quiet room, picking me up off the bed with ease and holding me tight to his chest.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he orders, his mouth open against my ear.

“I’m your princess.” I wrap my legs around his waist. “All yours.”

“The rest of it, Sienna.”

“I’ll never leave.”

A shudder goes through him and I soak it up, letting my stepbrother run his hands all over me. Down my back, over my hips, up my arms. He’s so starved for human contact, he has to do this. I could feel his need for touch from the very first day we met, which is why I spontaneously hugged him our first night living together. I had an immediate need for Grant to know he could be human around me, if no one else.

After stiffening for several seconds, he returned the hug.

And now every night, we meet here and recreate a moment that gets better with time. Wrapping my legs around him is something new.

Something I’ve only done for the last week or so. His big hands might have started exploring me in different—lower—places, like my backside and thighs, but that could just be wishful thinking. Maybe he’s always done it.

As for his erection, I’m not sure when that started since I only noticed it when our private parts begun touching, thanks to my legs around his waist.

I know his body can’t help reacting to the nearness of a female, so I don’t read too much into the thick, raised flesh prodding my panties.

I just wish I was free to rub myself all over it.

God, I would love that. I would die from happiness.

But I’m too afraid to lose this connection. I crave our closeness. It’s my world.

If I pushed too far and found out Grant doesn’t want me as a lover, I would ruin this unique relationship we have. After a youth of being passed around between nannies, it’s the most honest, genuine one I’ve ever had. So I remain still and let him take from me. Let him be someone other than the god of finance for five minutes.

Right now, he’s just my stepbrother.

I’m his stepsister.

And he touches me like I’m his personal princess.

Because that’s exactly what I am.

Something else new happens now, however. Grant plants his knees on the bed and lays me down on the mattress, my ankles still wrapped loosely at the small of his back. His mouth is an inch from mine and I force myself not to whine or beg for kisses. Our first. I would do anything. I’d do

anything for him to ram that big, meaty part of him against me, too. Just to know what it feels like.

Grant doesn’t kiss me, though. Or ram his arousal into me.

In a slow deliberate movement, Grant rolls me over onto my stomach.

Air kisses the backs of my thighs and I feel him looking at me there. I squeeze my eyes closed and fist the sheets, waiting. Waiting for what?

I almost shred the bedclothes with eager fingers when my stepbrother lifts the hem of my robe, exposing my barely covered buttocks.

“I know you weren’t sleeping when I walked in, Sienna. I know every fucking thought in your beautiful head. You wanted to show this off to me.”

His hand comes to a rest on my bottom, cupping my right cheek, jiggling it hard. Before I can process what’s happening, Grant delivers a slow, sensual swat to my flesh. A spanking wrapped in silk, with just enough bite to make me gasp. “Do not let it happen again.”

I’m still reeling when the door snicks shut behind him and I’m alone again.

A frustrated sob leaves my mouth.

All at once, I realize I can’t go on like this. My femininity is clenching, my underwear is sopping wet—and having Grant touch my naked skin is a freshly formed addiction.

I need another hit.

I just have to figure out how to get it.

CHAPTER TWO

I PRESS MY knees together tight to keep them from shaking.

It doesn’t help.

I’ve never been sent to the headmistress’s office before. I’ve never even had an instructor become cross with me. If anything, I’m the teacher’s pet of the finishing school, turning in my work early and raising my hand during lessons. Not today. Today I’m sitting in the row of cold, hard, plastic chairs of shame, waiting for…what? Is the headmistress going to call my stepbrother?

I swallow a nervous sound and press my knees together tighter.

Grant does not have a spare second in his busy schedule. Even when he’s at home in the evenings, he’s constantly taking phone calls and hammering out emails, all while remaining totally stoic and unflappable.

It’s kind of incredible to watch. And I watch a lot. Usually peeking around the door jamb of his sprawling home office, wishing he would stop working and come hug me again.

Grant is definitely not going to hug me today. Not if they pull him out of a multi-million-dollar negotiation so he can come deal with his goodietwo-shoes-turned-troublemaker stepsister.

Maybe I should make a run for it.

Chewing on my lower lip, I eyeball the main office door. I’m actually considering blowing out of the finishing school on foot and moving to Spain. Unfortunately, I’d have to make it past my dozen bodyguards, all of whom are stationed outside the office door.

I sag and blow out a breath. Looks like I’ll have to brazen this out.

The main office door opens and I suck in a breath, but it’s not Grant. It’s another girl in an identical uniform to mine. Blue plaid skirt, white buttonup blouse, knee-high socks. I recognize her from aerobics class, though we’ve never spoken.

She runs a hand down her long, dark ponytail and plops down in the chair beside me, throwing one shapely leg over the other. “Hi. I’m

Ophelia.”

“Hi.” I attempt a smile. “Sienna Foster.”

Her lips twitch prettily. “I know who you are. Everyone does. Your brother commissioned the finishing school.”

“Oh yeah,” I say on a sigh.

We share a quiet laugh.

“What are you in for?” she asks.

My expression turns miserable. “I fell asleep in Time Management.” I turn to her wide-eyed. “My professor said I obviously need the class more than anyone.”

Her mouth forms an O. “Next time, can you disrupt aerobics?” She shudders. “I don’t like to sweat. They told me it wasn’t a good enough excuse to sit out. I begged to differ and here we are. Again.”

Against all odds, I’m smiling. “You come here often, then?”

Ophelia gives me a prim look. “Someone has to keep these stuffed shirts on their toes. Couldn’t your brother have hired cooler instructors?”

I’m back to being glum. “You should ask him yourself. He’s probably on his way here now.”

She eyes me closely. “Are you scared of him?”

“No. I just don’t like disappointing him. He’s done so much for me.”

Ophelia hums. “There are rumors going around school that, um…” She stops herself with a head shake. “Never mind, it’s really none of anyone’s business.”

“No, tell me. Please?” I turn in the chair to face her. “I’m the girl with twelve bodyguards. No one can get close enough to talk to me. What rumors are going around?”

“No one talks to me either,” Ophelia says quietly. “Every student here passed a test to get accepted. My daddy just has a lot of clout.” She gives me a half smile. “You’re not the only loner around these parts.” We share a quiet moment, before she continues. “So, okay. I might have overheard some girls in the bathroom saying you and your stepbrother have a… relationship. Of the Biblical persuasion. Although that’s not the term they used.”

I’m positive my face is beet red. “It’s not true.”

She nods. “I believe you.”

What I tell her next jumps to my lips, unexpected. I’m not sure what possesses me to confide in Ophelia. Maybe it’s my sixth sense telling me she’s trustworthy. Maybe I just need another girl to talk to. Whatever the reason, I find myself whispering, “I wish it was true. I’m in love with him.”

Her dark brows arch and I can see the wheels turning in her head.

“No guts no glory. You should do something about it.”

“About what?”

“You’re in love with him and he should love you back.”

I sit up straighter. “Yeah.”

Something important passes between us and intuition tells me I’ve found a lifelong friend in Ophelia. “I need to wear him down,” I whisper.

Before she can respond, I hear the familiar sound of my stepbrother’s footsteps coming down the hallway toward the main office. No one approaches like Grant. He walks with commanding confidence. As if oceans would part for him, straight down the middle. “That’s him,” I murmur, my heart lurching in my chest. “I’ve never been in trouble before.

I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

Ophelia squeezes my hand. “Be strong.”

In a panic-induced daze, I nod. When Grant walks into the office, a flutter of joy passes through me. He looks even more powerful outside of our home, walking among the common man. His blue gaze sweeps the room and lands on me, so intense it turns me to vapor where I sit. His expression is strained, irritated, but I detect a note of relief, too.

The administrator behind the front desk shoots to her feet, stammering a greeting. “M-Mister Foster. It’s so nice to see—” “Who am I to speak with about my sister?” he growls without taking his attention off me.

Turning the color of whipped cream, the administrator picks up the phone and hits a button. “Headmistress Lancaster? Mister Foster has arrived —” To my left, the headmistress’s office door bursts open and a polished, middle-aged Mrs. Lancaster emerges with a hand extended. “It’s such a pleasure, Mister Foster. I-I’m so sorry you had to take time out of your—” “Not sorry enough, apparently,” he says, bypassing her into the office.

With an embarrassed look in our direction, the headmistress follows Grant inside and closes the door. Ophelia and I exchange a nervous glance

and she squeezes my hand harder.

“We need to hear what they’re saying,” Ophelia whispers out of the side of her mouth.

“How?” I ask, nodding at the front desk lady. “She’ll see us.”

Ophelia’s leg bounces a moment, then she draws out a cell phone, hitting one of the speed dial numbers. Behind the school’s front desk, the phone rings. I’m just realizing it’s not a coincidence when Ophelia cups her hand around the cell receiver and says—in a man’s voice—“Yeah, we’ve got a drifter peeing in the pool. Someone needs to come handle this ASAP.” The administrator gasps, hangs up the phone and sprints from the office, shouting into a state-of-the-art walkie-talkie as she goes. I only waste a second gaping in astonished pride at Ophelia, before we both spring up and press our ears to the headmistress’s door.

Grant is talking, his voice in a low rasp.

“Do you recall why I had this finishing school built, Mrs. Lancaster?

Why I brought the best instructors in from all over the world to teach within these walls?”

“Well, yes—” “To give my stepsister the best social education possible. In a place I knew she would be safe and happy.” He pauses. “If she ceases to be satisfied, I will shut this school down overnight.”

“I brought you here out of concern for Sienna, Mister Foster. She fell asleep in her Time Management class and I wondered if there was something at home—” “Listen very carefully. If she ever falls asleep in class again, bring her a fucking blanket,” he says, precisely. “Every brick in every wall was put there for her. I’ll happily take a wrecking ball to this institution and build another one to ensure my stepsister’s happiness. I’ll build a hundred schools and let Sienna take her pick, if it makes her smile. She. Stays. Happy. And safe. Every moment of every day. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’d like to speak with Sienna alone now.”

Ophelia and I leap away from the door and deposit our backsides into the seats once again, trying our best to look innocent. But on the inside, my pulse is racing at a thousand miles an hour and my body is betraying my utter bliss, turning my panties damp, my nipples painfully erect. I knew

Grant liked seeing me happy, but I didn’t know to what degree. No one has ever cared about me like he does. My heart could soar to the clouds if my ribcage wasn’t keeping it in place.

“Uh, I don’t think you’ll have a problem wearing him down,” Ophelia says, earnestly.

I’m not given a chance to respond because the headmistress exits, her face flushed, demeanor harried. “Miss Foster.” She helps me to my feet and guides me like an invalid to the office. “Please. Use my office to speak with your brother. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.”

She closes the door behind her and I’m left alone with Grant. He faces away, standing at the window overlooking Lower Manhattan, arms crossed over his chest. “You looked nervous when I came in. Why?” “You’ve given me everything,” I manage. “I shouldn’t be a burden in return.”

Grant turns slowly with a brow raised, crossing the office—one measured step after the other—to stand in front of me. His scent is so masculine and heady, it makes my thighs quake, but I do nothing but tilt my head back and wait. My stepbrother’s hands lift, settling on my waist and I battle a whimper. I have the fantastic fantasy that he’s going to kiss me, but he picks me up instead, setting me down on the edge of the headmistress’s desk.

His big hands linger on my waist. “My princess thinks she’s a burden.”

He laughs without humor and I think I hear a tiny groan escape when his attention locks on my hard nipples. “Life was a burden before you showed up, Sienna. Crushing anything that gives you displeasure is not a chore. It’s a privilege.” His thumbs rub circles on either side of my belly button and it’s everything I can do to keep from squirming closer to his big, strong body. “I’m sorry you were nervous, princess.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper shakily.

“No. You being anything less than happy is never okay.” His touch leaves me and I almost cry out in dismay but bite my lip in time to keep the sound trapped. I watch as Grant takes something out of his pants pocket. A jewelry case? Yes. It’s long and rectangular—the kind that holds a necklace, and I’m still reeling over the possibilities of what could be inside when he snaps the black velvet box open and reveals a diamond necklace.

Seemingly hundreds of stones wink back at me in a platinum setting and it’s so elaborate, my hands fly to my flushed cheeks. “Oh my gosh. Grant.

You just gave me a diamond tiara for my birthday last week.” I shake my head vigorously. “That can’t be for me. I get in trouble and you bring me jewelry?” I lower my voice to a hushed tone and run a finger over the splendor within the case. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

“You don’t get in trouble. And spoiling you is how I work.” He takes out the necklace and fastens it around my neck, settling his hands back on my hips. “You’re too goddamn beautiful. It doesn’t do you justice.”

“This necklace is really mine?”

Grant’s eyes flash with amusement over my question. “Of course it is, Sienna. And the matching earrings are on your bed at home.” His humor fades, replaced with concern. “Why did you fall asleep in class? You were tired yesterday, too, when I came to your room.” I watch his burgundy tie rise and fall on a heavy breath, feel his hands knead my hips in a delicious rhythm. “Is something keeping you awake at night, princess?”

Unable to lie to Grant, I bite my lip and nod. “Yes. But I don’t really understand it.”

He steps between my thighs and inhales deeply at the crook of my neck, his grip tugging me closer to the edge of the desk, up against that big, swollen part of him, grinding it there gently. Almost as if by accident. “Tell me and I’ll fix it.”

Oh, I would love him to fix what’s wrong with me, because I suspect he’s the only one who can. Giving my explanation out loud is embarrassing, though, and my face burns as a result. “It’s um…my body,” I whisper, watching his midnight blue eyes sharpen. “I feel achy sometimes. And hot.

It gets so bad I can’t sleep.”

Grant’s voice is a deep thrum when he responds. “Poor princess. Where are you achy?”

I clamp my mouth shut, refusing to answer. I’ve already said enough.

“If I guess correctly…” he asks against my ear. “Will you nod?”

“Yes.” In a move I never could have expected, Grant’s hands close over my breasts, massaging me through my blouse. “Here?”

My breath leaves me in a sob and my thighs open wider on the desk.

Involuntarily. His thumbs tease my nipples and I arch my back, pinpricks of light flashing in front of my eyes. Oh God. Oh God. It feels so good.

Remembering I’m supposed to nod, I bob my head up and down.

“Is this the only place?” Grant asks hoarsely.

“N-no.”

The tiny muscles between my legs spasm when Grant’s hands rake down my front, gathering the hem of my skirt, his chest starting to heave faster, faster, faster. “I’m going to lift this and check your panties. If they’re wet, we’ll know the source of the ache.”

Already knowing what he’s going to find—and suddenly needing my stepbrother to know how I’ve been suffering—I scoot my legs wider and lean back on the desk. My nipples jut out indecently beneath my blouse, diamonds twinkle up at me and Grant is touching me. Life can’t get much better than this, but I wish the constant throb inside me would stop.

It’s too much to bear.

Grant wipes away the sweat on his upper lip with a swipe of his wrist, then he lifts the hem of my skirt, his usually stoic face contorting with pain.

“Fucking Christ.”

“A-are they wet?”

Grant licks his lower lip. “They’re saturated, Sienna.”

I try to draw my knees closed, but he blocks me with his hips. “Is that bad?”

“God, no. You’ve just started to crave a man sooner than I expected. Six days too soon,” I think I hear him mutter. His open mouth traces a line up the side of my neck, his fingers toying with the edge of my panties, making my writhe on the hard wood desk. “Trust me, I’ll make sure you sleep very well tonight, princess.”

My eyes almost cross at the implication. “You will?”

His jaw flexes. “Don’t I always take care of you?”

“Yes, Grant. Always. In every way.”

He makes a harsh sound. “Seeing you in this kind of need is torture.”

This kind of need. I’m not even sure what he means, only that he knows more details and I want them discussed. Want the mysterious hunger taken away.

Lord, I want him to touch my breasts again. I want him to kiss me. And what does it mean that he’s touching me in ways he never has before? Is Grant just helping me figure out what’s wrong with my body, or does my stepbrother…want me? It seems impossible. He could have any woman he wanted. A woman who isn’t related to him. Couldn’t being with me hurt his reputation? I would rather die than cause him more problems.

I’m distracted from my troubled thoughts when Grant tugs me off the desk, using his body to keep me steady. Heat radiates off him, and I still feel the thick line of his erection against my tummy, but his movements are turning more purposeful. “We can’t have you wearing dripping wet panties all day long,” he says briskly, reaching beneath my skirt—and pulling down my underwear, letting it drop to the ground.

What happens next blows my mind.

My stepbrother reaches into his jacket pocket and removes a pair of my panties. Clean ones that I recognize from my drawer at home. With his jaw on the verge of shattering, he motions for me to step into the new pair of underwear, then slides them up my legs, grazing my sex and bottom with his fingers while putting them in place.

I’m sucking in gulps of air by the time he finishes, the yearning for relief intensifying inside me when Grant presses the wet pair to his mouth, smelling them, before tucking the damp undergarment into his pocket.

He takes me by the chin and runs his thumb along the seam of my lips, looking at my face as if memorizing it. “Straight home after school, princess.”

“Yes, Grant.”

With a low curse, he’s gone, leaving me shaken where I stand.

I traverse the rest of the day in a haze and I’m ashamed to admit, I soak through a second pair of panties replaying over and over again what happened in the headmistress’s office. How my stepbrother touched me, how he promised to ease my ache tonight. How will he do it? Will he show me what it’s like to have sex? The act is unknown to me, but it gives relief to the people who engage in it. That much I know. Not to mention, it requires nudity and touching. I want to experience that for the first time with Grant.

Tonight. Every single night after that, too. Not to be greedy.

Also…I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, but I have a secret fantasy where Grant walks me to my lecture in the morning, carrying my book bag on his strong shoulder for me. When we reach the classroom door, he kisses my forehead and tells me to be a good girl. Like he’s my…Daddy. I don’t know what it means, but that fantasy alone can inundate me with heat.

Speaking of which, all of my nerve endings are buzzing when I bounce into my bedroom, tossing my book bag on the floor. I’m expecting the diamond earrings on my bed, but I frown when I see another package beside it. I sit down with it in my lap and unwrap…a wand of some kind.

It’s gold and there’s a little switch on the side.

There is no note attached, so I reach back into the box for instructions.

After the first paragraph, my mouth is on the floor.

Grant bought me a vibrator? To pleasure myself?

All at once, his words from earlier this afternoon come back to me.

Trust me, I’ll make sure you sleep very well tonight, princess.

No. This is not what I needed. I need Grant. Doesn’t he know I’m aching for so much more than a quick fix? I’m aching for his touch, his attention, his…love.

I flop back on the bed, the vibrator forgotten in my hand.

Next, I hear Ophelia’s words in my head.

Uh, I don’t think you’ll have a problem wearing him down.

I study the vibrator with renewed determination.

Maybe it is time to start wearing my stepbrother down.

From now on, it’s no more Mrs. Nice Girl.

CHAPTER THREE

GRANT DOESN’T COME to my room for his hug that night.

A dinner tray arrives at my door at six p.m. sharp, along with a note.

It reads, Join me in the living room at seven. G Maybe I was wrong about my stepbrother’s intention in buying me the little gold wand. Maybe Grant bought me the vibrator for some added fun, in addition to what we’re going to do together? Why is the man so mysterious?

Every inch of my body is still on fire from his touch this afternoon— and I need more—so I rush through my dinner, clumsily spilling butternut squash soup on my shirt. Forced to change, I pull on a white nightshirt and comb out my hair, leaving it loose. On my way out of the room, I stop and pick up the box containing the vibrator, bringing it with me. If Grant has no plans to touch me again, I’ll have to put my Big Important Plan into effect.

I stop short at the edge of the living room when I hear a woman’s voice.

She’s speaking in a businesslike French accent and when I turn the corner, I see the voice is coming from a very fashionable woman in her sixties. She’s dressed in a smart, purple pantsuit and is separating what looks like garment bags into piles.

Confused, I look around the living room for Grant and find him on the balcony, talking on his cell phone, Manhattan a glittering backdrop around him. Not wanting him to see me with the vibrator just yet, I hide it behind a heavy tome on the bookshelf.

“Um…” I tuck my hair behind my ear and advance into the huge living space, my feet sinking into sumptuously soft carpet, which is white and gray, like almost everything else in the penthouse—besides my room. “Hi, I’m Sienna.” I sense, rather than see, Grant ending his call on the balcony and glance over, finding him watching me from the shadows. I turn my attention back to the woman in purple. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, my love. I am Janice! I’ve come all the way from Paris!” the woman crows, taking my hand and turning me in a circle. “Let me get a

look at you. Such a beauty! I was informed by Mister Foster that you looked best in pastels and I have to agree with this assessment.” She claps her hands together. “I’m here to dress you, darling.”

“You need summer clothes,” Grant rumbles, coming in from outside.

There’s a drizzling of rain on the shoulders of his white button-down shirt.

On his way toward us, he rolls up the sleeves to reveal his corded forearms and I try not to drool. When Grant reaches us, he and I stare at each other for a heavy moment, his expression revealing nothing. “She’ll have whatever she wants.” He flicks a glance at Janice. “Don’t let her tell you she doesn’t need something. I want her to have it all.”

“But I already have summer clothes.”

“You’re getting new ones.”

“Why?” “My love,” Janice cuts in, clucking her tongue. “Let the man get his way. He will be happy. You’ll have pretty new clothes. Everyone wins!”

Janice goes back to sorting garment bags and I stand in the center of the living room, no idea what to do with my hands. Grant takes a seat on one of the low, gray leather couches, about ten feet away from me, legs outstretched in front of him.

“Are you going to watch?” I breathe.

“But of course, he will watch. You wear clothes so he’ll be enticed to take them off, no?” Janice’s laugh is bawdy. “Might as well get his opinion.”

That’s when I realize that Janice doesn’t know Grant is my stepbrother.

His eyes capture and hold mine, watching as I reach that conclusion.

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

I’m suddenly so hot, I wish I could go outside and stand in the rain to cool off. But that would mean leaving Grant’s magnetic presence and I don’t want that, so I stay put.

“Let’s start with a couple of dresses, designed by yours truly,” Janice says. “Now, no need to be modest. We’re all friends here.” Even though I hear what Janice is saying, I’m totally unprepared when she whips off my nightshirt, leaving me in nothing but a pair of miniscule pink panties and my bare breasts on display.

Speaking of Grant, he makes a hissing sound, sitting forward on the couch.

My urge is to cover myself, but I don’t.

I don’t, because I’m supposed to be wearing him down and maybe, just maybe, the unexpected arrival of Janice will assist me in that endeavor.

“Arms up,” Janice instructs, dropping a baby blue silk dress over my head. It caresses my skin as it flutters to a stop at my ankles. She pulls together the back and the low neckline cinches tighter, presenting my breasts. “This is lovely with your coloring, Sienna. You look like a princess!”

“Yes,” Grant says, sounding strained. “She does.”

“I love this dress,” I say to Janice, without taking my attention off my stepbrother. “But I would love to try something shorter. The shorter the better, actually.”

I don’t miss the way Grant’s right eye twitches.

“Shorter than a Frenchman’s temper! Yes, ma’am.” Behind me, Janice rummages through the garment bags. “Coming right up!”

This time, she fits me into a strapless, silver minidress that barely hits the tops of my thighs. There is a built-in corset that pushes my breasts up high, the material hugging my curves like a second skin. “What do you think of this one, Grant?” With a lot of confidence I don’t necessarily feel, I saunter forward to stand in between his outstretched legs and run my hands up the front of my body, over the slopes of my cleavage. “Do you like it?”

“Sure,” he growls. “If you plan to never leave the fucking house.”

“Oh, he is a jealous one,” Janice croons behind me.

“Jealous?” Grant shakes his head slowly. “You have no idea.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then?” I whisper.

When Grant only narrows his eyes at me, I decide it’s time to break out the bigger guns. “You said summer clothes, right, Janice? Did you mean bathing suits, too?”

“Yes, my love! I have several colors and styles!”

Grant loosens the tie around his neck with deliberate movements. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to rile me up, princess.”

Feeling bold, I rest my hands on his thighs and lean forward, watching his interest flare at the sight of my breasts so close to his mouth. “No one is forcing you to watch.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You force me to watch by being so goddamn gorgeous, Sienna. I couldn’t take my eyes off you if I tried.” He

looks me over, top to bottom. “And I have tried not to look. I’ve tried to be noble and keep away—and failed. I’m so fucking close to being done trying.”

“How close?” I whisper, swaying slightly under his intensity.

“Very. Close.” Grant bites out. “Don’t push me.”

The fact that he’s close to losing control and touching me is music to my ears. Up until today, I wasn’t even sure Grant found me attractive. I knew he cared about me a lot. I knew his body reacted to the nearness of mine. But what he’s showing me now is new. A whole new side of my stepbrother that makes me wonder what he’s been hiding under the surface.

I’m going to find out.

“I’d love to try a bikini,” I call over my shoulder. “Do you have red? Or pink?”

“I have both!” Some plastic crackles. “I have a pink string bikini with little red hearts on it. Look! It is precious!”

I do actually fall in love with the bikini at first glance. It’s whimsical and sexy and I can’t imagine wearing it and being anything less than confident. I stand still while Janice zips me out of the silver dress, then I take a deep breath and let my panties drop to the living room carpet. I feel Grant’s hungry gaze on me while pulling up the thong bottom, the thin strip of red material separating my butt cheeks. I hear his low groan when I tie the strings of the top and give my breasts a little shake, to make sure they’re in securely.

Finally, I turn and face Grant where he sits on the couch. He’s not even bothering to hide the hard flesh tenting his dress pants. Or the warning in his eyes.

Knowing he wouldn’t hurt me if his very life depended on it, I feel totally safe taunting the eye of the storm, however. While Janice is distracted, I put some extra swing in my hips and cross to the couch, sitting down on Grant’s lap, tucking my backside into his groin area and feeling the enormous ridge of his manhood.

“Christ,” he says on an exhale, thrusting his hips up. “Don’t do this to me, princess. We’ve almost made it.”

“Made it where?” I don’t wait for him to answer, but turn in his lap, eliciting another growl from that perfectly masculine mouth. I’m all

prepared to purr something seductive in his ear, but instead I say, “You didn’t come for your hug today.”

His eyes close briefly. “Believe me, I missed it more than you did.” He runs a hand up my bare thigh, resting it on my hip, rocking me against him and gritting his teeth. “I look forward to that time with you every day more than I ever looked forward to anything in my life.”

Certain he’s close to admitting he wants me—or maybe even loves me —I know I have to push. Wear him down. If he’s being noble for my sake, he needs to know it’s unnecessary. “So don’t leave anymore,” I whisper against his mouth. “Lie down with me, kiss me and take my clothes off—” “You can’t make that decision yet,” he says harshly, his fingers splaying on my belly and moving higher, toward my breasts. “I’m your caretaker, Sienna.”

“You’re my Grant,” I sob, pushing aside the triangles of my bikini top and letting my nipples peek out. “Everything else is just details.”

“Maybe to you,” he chokes out, his gaze eating me alive, from the tips of my breasts to the scrap of red barely concealing my femininity. “But God help me, I need to do this right.”

“There’s nothing more right than you and me.”

His fingers graze my right nipple and I arch my back, mewling. “In time, you will be correct,” Grant rasps. “But I think you’re forgetting we have an audience.”

He’s right. I completely forgot. Sitting on Grant’s lap in nothing but a string bikini and having his undivided attention—and touch—is heaven on earth and everything else has faded to the background. Cheeks burning, I look over at Janice and find her turned away as she makes some notes on a pad of paper. Any minute, she could glance back at us. Grant and I won’t have this illusion of privacy for long, but lord, I don’t want to leave this sanctuary. His erection is huge against my bottom and there’s no way I can try on any more clothes when every inch of my skin is achingly sensitive. I need more. I need to feed my body whatever it’s after.

No guts no glory.

I reach up and thread my fingers into his hair, twisting a little in his lap.

“I got your present,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His fingertips drag lightly up and down my thigh, coming dangerously close to my mound. “Just don’t get used to owning one

of those.”

“How can I get used to my present when I don’t know how to use it?”

“You don’t know how—” His mouth snaps into a grim line. “Sienna.”

Okay, so he’s skeptical. But I’m not one hundred percent fibbing. Until I read the instructions, I didn’t even know the function of the gold wand. So I give my stepbrother the most innocent, wide-eyed look I can muster and continue to toy with his hair. “Is it a back massager? I mean…I suppose that might help me sleep, but—” “You know damn well what it is.”

I shake my head, sending blonde hair curling around my breasts and shoulders. He watches it arrange itself in rapt fascination, his shaking fingers creeping ever closer to the juncture of my thighs. “No, I don’t. Will you show me?”

Perspiration is begging to break out on his brow and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Grant Foster—the overlord of Wall Street—so ruffled. His arousal is so stiff now it’s wedged up in between my butt cheeks and the position is so much more pleasurable than I would have expected. I wiggle on it and he growls. “You’re killing me, little girl.”

For some reason, when Grant calls me “little girl,” something hot and delicious coils up inside of me, like a snake getting ready to strike. He’s never used that endearment with me before. It’s always “princess.” I love him calling me “princess.” But the term “little girl” makes me feel small and cherished and girly. I want him to say it again and again.

“I don’t want to try on more clothes. You spoil me so much already,” I murmur, laying my head on his shuddering chest and playing with the buttons of his shirt. “You give me almost every single thing I want.”

Grant stiffens. “Almost?”

Peering up at him, I nod. “I want kisses. From just you.” Hot moisture presses behind my eyes. “When I don’t get them, I feel sad.”

“No.” Some of the color leaves his face. “No, princess. Don’t be sad. I can’t stand it.”

Against my will, more moisture wells in my eyes.

He makes a harsh sound. Without taking his attention off me, he calls to Janice. “She’ll take one of everything. Shoes to match.” Finally, his fingertips brush across my sex and I jolt, sucking in a breath. “Leave us,” he shouts.

We stare at one another as Janice gathers her things and clicks from the room in her high heels. In the distance, I hear the apartment door snick shut and then we’re alone. Grant leans in, his gaze rapt on my mouth, but instead of bringing our mouths together, he lays me down on the couch and stands.

He lets me look over the thick ridge in his pants leg, stroking it just once with his big hand before turning to stride across the room. My mouth falls open when he plucks the vibrator box off the bookshelf and returns to me.

“I’m aware of your movements at all times, Sienna,” he drawls, planting one knee on the couch and the other between my legs. “Remember that.”

I should be embarrassed over getting caught smuggling in sex toy contraband, not turned on over my stepbrother’s awareness of me.

My bad.

Grant watches me through narrowed eyes while opening the box, taking out the gold wand and tossing the packaging aside. Then he sets it down beside my thigh and loosens his tie, removing it and dropping it on the floor, leaving him in the white shirt with rolled up sleeves and black dress pants. His virility, power and masculine beauty keep me pinned to the couch as he leans over me, half-covering my body with his own. “Now you know, Sienna. All this time you could have broken me with tears.” He presses me down into the cushions with his weight, groaning when our lower bodies lock together. “I would tear down my empire and sell the parts for scrap to stop you from crying.” His mouth comes to a rest against mine and a thrill blows down my spine. “How do you plan to use your weapon against me, little girl?”

There’s that endearment again. It turns over new soil inside me and I find my thighs spreading wider, my voice emerging in an innocent purr against his partially open lips. “To make you play with me.” I rub the arches of my feet up and down his calf muscles. “To make you kiss me.” Without breaking the contact of our mouths, I pick up the gold vibrator and press it into his grip. “To make you teach me what I need.”

His groan is guttural. A surrender.

And then my stepbrother is kissing me for the first time.

A firework explodes and blossoms in my belly, my thoughts blurring into swipes of color and sound. His texture is rough and smooth, all at the same time, his nighttime beard abrading my chin while his tongue gentles me from the inside. I’m his human sacrifice. This is where I want to die,

beneath him on the couch, being conquered by his mouth. And Lord, does he conquer. The sounds of hunger coming from deep in his chest and throat coax my whimpers to life as he angles his head one way, then the other, tasting me deeply and without gentleness. All the while, he drags his erection side to side against my right hip, rubbing that turgid flesh there, growing more insistent until he’s humping me.

Finally, he breaks the kiss with a growl and presses his forehead to mine. “I’ve spent a year wondering what you’d taste like when I finally pried those pretty lips open and tongued you, Sienna. Somehow you’re even sweeter than I ever imagined.” He licks into my mouth, groaning as our tongues meet and rub against each other. “The first time we met, you kissed my cheek with these sweet, pink lips and I almost turned my head and ate you alive, right in front of our parents. I’ve hungered for this fucking mouth, princess. Every word that comes out of it, every piece of food it chews, has been a taunt aimed directly at me.”

His words are a symphony for my senses. “I’ve just been waiting to give it to you.”

“Make no mistake, your mouth has been mine this whole time.” He frames my jaw with a hand. “All fucking mine.”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“That goes for every single inch of you. From the crown of your head to your pinkie toes.” His hand tightens just a touch on my jaw, tilting my head up so I meet his eyes. “You are your brother’s perfect little princess.”

If I thought the ache between my legs was bad before, I had no idea how much worse it could get. Every word out of Grant’s mouth makes my core clench and produce moisture. I’m wet and quaking inside my bikini bottoms, unable to keep my thighs still where they circle Grant’s hips. “Are you…all mine, though?” I ask, giving voice to the concern that has plagued me since I can remember. “Or are there other, um…”

For a beat, he seems almost perplexed by my question, but understanding dawns and immediately gives way to disbelief. “Other women don’t exist for me, Sienna,” he says harshly, as if the very idea of touching anyone else disgusts him. Knowing he’s been faithful to the relationship I’ve pined for in my head makes me pine all the harder for him to possess me fully.

“I hurt all over,” I gasp. “I need…”

“Shhh,” he breathes against my mouth, his hand dropping away from my jaw. “I take care of you in every single way. And very soon, Sienna, you’re going to find out what it means to take care of me, too. It’s how you’ll spend your mornings, nights and weekends. Taking care of me from your back or hands and knees.”

Another firework goes off below my belly button. Pow. “I want to start now,” I sob.

“No. I’ve made my vow and I won’t break it,” he grits out, robbing me of thought with another hard kiss. “It’s bad enough that I’m dry fucking your half-naked little body.” My disagreements are stemmed when I hear a buzz. It’s almost imperceptibly quiet, but I can feel the vibration in Grant’s hand. It goes through me and makes me moan. “But I can’t deny my princess something she needs, so open your thighs and let me satisfy my girl’s virgin pussy.”

I follow his instructions blindly, staring down the writhing length of my body, marveling over the size difference between me and my stepbrother.

How much leashed power his body radiates as he moves to one side, reaches down between my spread legs and gently, so, so gently touches the speeding vibrator to my clitoris through the bikini bottoms.

My scream is so unexpected, it gets trapped in my throat. Flames lick up my torso and I can’t fill my lungs. My thighs shoot together, but Grant takes away the mind-blowing buzz when I do that, so I open them again and whimper for more.

“Look at those pretty schoolgirl tits,” he says hoarsely. “Spilling out of that tiny bikini. I’d love to fuck you blind right now, princess.”

“Yes.” I twist my fingers in his shirt. “Yes.” “Did your pussy get wet parading around in front of me wearing nothing but strings?”

“Yes.” “Oh, I know, little girl.” He slides the vibrator inside my bikini bottoms and presses it down hard on my clitoris. “I can feel it.”

“Grant,” I wail. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

He presses a button on the device and it starts to pulse. Oh God. Oh my God. It’s the most incredible torture. Awful and amazing at the same time.

“Your first orgasm was supposed to seep out all over my cock, Sienna. But you have a horny pussy that needs attention now, don’t you?” He introduces

the back curve of the vibrator to my entrance, tucking it just inside and grinding on the sensitive ring of skin, making my back arch on another scream. “Who does it need, princess?”

“You.” My body twists and writhes on the couch. “It needs you, Daddy.”

My eyes fly open on a shocked gasp and lock with Grant’s. A hot wave of primal satisfaction radiates from his muscular body, but I watch as he struggles to subdue it, not without a concerted effort. Did I do something wrong? Why won’t he say anything?

“I d-didn’t…” I stammer, my body still inching toward cloud nine despite the turmoil in my chest. “I-I don’t know why I said that.”

“Oh yes, you do. It’s a long time coming,” Grant bites out, massaging me with the vibrator. “You will not call me your Daddy and take it back.”

He starts to jiggle the device lightly, directly on top of my clitoris. And as if that’s not enough to push me past my breaking point, my stepbrother leans down and rakes his teeth over my nipple, sucking it into his mouth. “Give me that cream right now, Sienna, before I do something I won’t be able to take back.”

I’ve been hovering right on the edge of what promises to be incredible bliss for the last few minutes, but it’s like I’ve been waiting for Grant to demand I let go. As soon as he does, I bite down on my lip and fling myself into the storm. I absorb that storm in my belly and it advances lower, lower, until my sex clenches up tight, so tight, and an overwhelming flood of relief passes through me. It tickles, it hurts, it revives. It’s everything.

While I shake like a leaf, I cling to the sound of Grant’s voice, but I can’t make out the words, only that I’m comforted to have him close. I wish he’d come closer, but the pleasure rollicking through my body is too intense to be distracted. I’m wracked with wave after wave of indescribable pleasure, my hands twisting in the material of Grant’s shirt. And then I simply turn limp, my vision winking and going dark.

I have the barest awareness of Grant hoisting me up into his arms and carrying me out of the living room. I want to ask him to kiss me goodnight and stay with me, but…there’s a worry building in my gut that I did—or said—something wrong. Or that I pushed Grant when I shouldn’t have.

When he settles me in my bed and tucks me under the covers, I console myself with the belief that everything will be fine tomorrow.

But tomorrow is not fine.

It’s the opposite of fine.

CHAPTER FOUR

I HAVEN’T SEEN Grant in five days.

My world is upside down and spinning down the toilet.

Energy eludes me. Getting out of bed is an effort and I have no appetite.

I can’t concentrate in class and my instructors have asked several times if I’m okay. I think they’re worried I’m going to collapse and bring my angry stepbrother down on their heads again.

If something happened to me, would he even care anymore?

For the last year, I’ve never gone a day without seeing Grant. Whether at breakfast, during our evening hug or at dinner. On the couch while I read and he worked on his laptop. His home became my home, but only because he was in it. Now? As far as I can tell, he hasn’t set foot inside the penthouse since the night we messed around on the couch.

Since the night I called him Daddy.

Walking down the hallway of the finishing school toward Elegant Correspondence class with my dozen bodyguards flanking me on all sides, I drop my face into my hands and groan. I can’t believe I called Grant that name. I mean, I’d just accomplished the herculean feat of getting him to kiss me, then I let out the naughty, forbidden words from my subconscious.

Was he horrified? Does he think bringing me to live with him was a mistake?

What if he’s making other arrangements for me as we speak?

I stop at my locker, punch in the combination, open the door and stick my head inside. My bodyguards are probably wondering what the heck is wrong with me, but on day one of their jobs, Grant made it forbidden to speak to me unless I’m in danger of some kind, so the big bruisers just stand beside me quietly. Fine by me. It hurts to talk, anyway.

I miss Grant. A lot. Every second without knowing if he’s mad or disgusted with me is like a punch in the stomach. It’s agony and I don’t even have the strength to walk to my next class, let alone participate in the

lecture and discussion. Will another day really pass without Grant coming to see me?

Shoulders sagging, I run my fingers along the diamond necklace I’m wearing. I put it on this morning so I could feel close to Grant, but it’s not working. I just look like a sad, pathetic skeleton in a hundred-thousanddollar piece of jewelry.

“Whatcha doing in there, Sienna?” Ophelia’s voice startles me and I smack my head off the top shelf, making her wince. “Ouch. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Rubbing the sore spot on my head, I turn to her with a fabricated smile that I don’t quite pull off. “I’m wonderful.”

She arches a brow. “No one has ever looked more miserable while saying those words.”

“Can you give me a pass on my terrible mood? You’re my only friend and I don’t want to scare you off.”

Ophelia ducks her head, smiling. “I don’t scare easy.”

“Good. Because I need to tell you something. You give terrible advice.”

She winces. “You tried to wear down Mister Foster, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And it was going extremely well. Until it wasn’t.”

My friend starts to put an arm around me, but the closest security guard grunts and she reacts like she’s been burned, taking her arm away. After giving the guard a censorious look, we both lean back against the lockers, holding our books to our chests. Suddenly, the idea of continuing with my lessons today is totally unacceptable to me. I’m feeling restless and cooped up. Confused, sad…and the beginnings of anger are starting to rear their ugly head. How dare Grant kiss me so hungrily and tuck me into bed with such care…before abandoning me! Yes, now that I think about it, I’d like to poke him in the eye!

So I made one little error. Family isn’t supposed to leave you flapping in the breeze like an old windsock, no matter what you do. He gave me a home and love. Then he took it away. It’s his fault I’m lonely. If he’d just left me with my mother’s housekeepers, I would never have known how wonderful it could be to have someone care about me. Now that I do, it’s horrible to be left without a word.

“I have to get out of here,” I whisper to Ophelia out of the corner of my mouth. “If Grant doesn’t want me, that’s fine. But I’m not going to put up with his contingency of bodyguards when he’s washed his hands of me. I

just…I need to go somewhere I can think. Where I’m not surrounded by constant reminders of him.”

“I hear you loud and clear.” Ophelia brushes back her hair in a casual move. “You know, there’s a window in the faculty lounge. No bars—and it leads to a fire escape. I think they like to sneak a cigarette out there once in a while.” She shrugs. “Five floors of stairs and you’re on West Broadway.”

A laugh bubbles up in my throat. “How do you know this?”

“I had to escape checkbook balancing class once,” Ophelia says. “I don’t math well.”

“Right.” I sigh. “Won’t there be instructors in the faculty lounge?”

“Yes. But if you ask me nicely, I can create a diversion.” She leans over and whispers in my ear. “Here’s the plan…”

Five minutes later, I’m inside the women’s bathroom. Waiting. I check the time on my cell phone. One p.m. Right on cue, I hear a crash and then Ophelia’s shriek echo down the main hallway. My leg. Oh God, I think I broke my leg.

I peek out the door of the bathroom and just like she said, all of my bodyguards are facing away, watching the commotion. Across the hallway from the restroom, the instructor’s lounge door bangs open and several of them fly to Ophelia’s aid, leaving the lounge empty. Quiet as possible, I creep from the bathroom and tiptoe across the hall, ducking inside the lounge.

My heart is moving like a hamster on a wheel. I’ve never done anything remotely like this. I’m a good girl. I stick to the rules. But I don’t want to turn back. I wasn’t lying when I said I need to get away from reminders of Grant before they crush my broken heart to dust. It’s an urgent need and for now, I’m following my impulses and living in the moment.

When I slide open the window, my confidence wavers. Five floors didn’t seem like much in theory, but we’re a long way from the ground.

Gathering up my bravery, I climb out and start my descent to the street. It seems like it’s taking forever, but before I know it, there is only one floor left to go. And of course, that’s when I’m discovered. There’s a shout from the window above and I accelerate my pace, jumping to the ground with a squeal and taking off running.

I dodge businessmen in suits and a tour group, hooking a quick right at the corner. I zigzag down one-way streets for a good ten minutes until I’m

positive my chances of being discovered are squashed. My sides are heaving with exertion when I enter a park and fall onto a bench. Adrenaline tickles my ribs and I can’t help it, I’m kind of impressed with myself. I made a plan and executed it. And in the process, I surprised myself. Found out what I’m capable of.

Go Team Sienna.

The next few hours are all about me. I have some cash in my sock and use it to buy an ice cream, chocolate with rainbow sprinkles. I walk to the West Side and stroll along the Hudson, hopping up onto the Highline for a better view. If it seems like a lot of people—mostly men—are staring at me, it must be my imagination. I haven’t been out by myself in a long time.

Maybe I just forgot how much folks like to people watch.

When the sun starts to go down, I’ve reached Greenwich Village and decide to take a rest on the stoop of a brownstone. Once again, I get the weird feeling every man who passes is looking at me just a touch too long, but I’m distracted from that concern when a young gentleman sits down beside me on the stoop.

“Hey there,” he says, winking.

I check the urge to look behind me, just in case he’s talking to someone else. “Hi.” He sends a nod over his shoulder. “This is my house.”

“Oh!” I shoot to my feet and his gaze climbs my bare legs with interest, flaring in a way that makes me uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I was only going to sit here for a minute. I’ll just—” Before I can walk away, the man stands, as well. “No, please. It’s fine.

It’s obviously my lucky day.” He comes a little closer and winks. Again.

“Come on inside. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea—” “Is there a new private school around here?” he interrupts, looking me over with an indiscernible expression. “I don’t see many girls in this particular uniform. And for damn sure, none of them look like you, sweetheart. Not even close.”

Alarm flares in my belly and I back away toward the main avenue, but he follows.

“Come on, I can pay you. Whatever you want,” the man says in a low urgent voice, reaching for my arm. Grabbing it. “Just lift up the skirt and let

me jerk off on those legs—” Tires screech.

The sound is so loud, I jump a foot in the air, dislodging the man’s hand.

My gaze flies to the street to figure out what’s happening. There are four black SUVs—the kind my bodyguards transport me in—and I know I’ve been found. What I don’t expect is Grant to lunge out of the first SUV and let out a roar. It’s earsplitting enough to send everyone on the sidewalk scattering and make me stumble back a handful of steps.

His tie is loose and askew, hair in disarray, eyes wild.

In that moment, I realize I was quite mistaken.

My stepbrother still cares for me a great deal.

“Uh oh,” I whisper. “I’m in trouble.”

“What?” says the man next to me, his voice shaking in fear. “You know him?”

“Don’t speak to her,” Grant growls, having reached the sidewalk. He wastes no time winding up and driving his fist into the man’s face—and the guy goes down like a sack of potatoes, blood spraying onto the ground.

Grant doesn’t stop, though. He reaches down and jerks the man up by his collar, getting in his face. “No one touches her. No one. You’ll die for your mistake.”

“Grant, no,” I breathe, jumping into action. Even my high-powered stepbrother can’t dodge a murder charge. Probably. I hook my arm through his and try to pull him off, but he appears to be considering eating the man’s face for dinner. “I’m fine. Look at me. I’m fine.”

“Sienna,” he grinds out, without looking at me. “Get in the fucking car.”

Oh no. No way. He’s not going to order me around after he’s been missing in action for five days without an explanation. “Don’t talk to me like that,” I shout at him.

His head turns slowly in my direction, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you really want to test me right now, princess?” he rasps.

I cross my arms. “Yup.” He throws the man to the ground with considerable force. Takes one step in my direction. And before I can brace myself, I’m dangling like a limp noodle over his shoulder. In another place and time, I might appreciate being face to face with the butt to end all butts, but not right now. All I see is red. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He laughs.

Laughs.

There’s no humor in the sound, only a warning of what’s to come, and within seconds, I’m inside the SUV, the door slamming behind us. Grant settles into the leather seat beside me and with seeming calm, leans forward to communicate something to the member of security personnel sitting in the front passenger seat. The man leaves the vehicle and I only get a glimpse of him approaching my would-be attacker where he continues to bleed on the sidewalk, because the SUV starts moving. I almost feel bad for the guy.

Grant presses the button above his head to raise the partition, cutting us off from the driver. Then we’re alone. The atmosphere becomes eerily still inside the vehicle even as the cityscape begins to whiz past outside the windows.

“There is a reason I keep you guarded around the clock, Sienna,” Grant says through clenched teeth. “Do you have any idea of the picture you make, my little blonde princess, strolling around the city in your uniform?

Men were circling you like vultures.”

I lift my chin and stare out the window, refusing to admit Grant is right about this one thing. I had no idea my appearance could create that kind of a stir, but I can still feel that man’s hand on my arm and frankly, I haven’t been that scared in a long time.

He plows his fingers through his dark hair. “Do you have any idea what the last few hours have been like for me, Sienna?”

With a gasp, I turn toward him in the seat. “Do you have any what the last five days have been like for me, Grant?” I’m horrified to hear a hitch in my voice. “I wasn’t even sure you would care if I took off.”

“You weren’t sure if I would care?” His expression is one of utter disbelief. “Oh Sienna, you’re about to get a very valuable education.”

He reaches for me, but I smack his hands away. “I don’t want your education.”

Grant doesn’t listen. Instead, he hooks his hands under my knees, turns me until I’m facing him and then yanks, making me fall backwards on the seat. One second I’m staring up at the roof in shock. The next, Grant’s hands are under my skirt and I’m having my panties ripped down to my ankles. Tossed aside. Lust trickles into my belly, but even though I’ll never

stop wanting Grant, I’m still mad as heck. I jackknife on the seat and push at his shoulders, but he easily pins me down to the seat. “One more hour without you and I would have gone insane, Sienna,” he growls, wedging his big body between my kicking legs. “When they told me you were missing, I wanted to kill. I wanted to destroy everything in my path. Don’t you understand I’m nothing but a cold bastard without you? Don’t you understand I can’t live without you?” He tears my shirt down the middle, sending buttons flying in every direction and then he buries his face between my breasts, groaning as he kisses each globe in turn. “You promised you would never leave me, you beautiful little liar.”

“You left me,” I shout up at his gorgeously ravaged face. “You’re the liar.”

“No.” His hands slide up over my breasts and knead them gently. “I was there, princess. You just couldn’t see me.”

“Seeing you matters.” I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat but can’t. “I called you…that name…and you obviously didn’t like it. But you didn’t have to abandon me over it.”

“Didn’t like it?” My bra is torn off next in a quick wrist twist, Grant’s eyes hot and intense on mine. “You’ll be calling me Daddy every day for the rest of your life. Not hearing it for five days has been torture. It echoes in my head every minute of the fucking day.”

“Really?” I wince in self-disgust at the breathlessness of my tone. I’m supposed to be mad, dammit. Stay mad. I refuse to easily disregard the hurt he caused. “You know what? No. I don’t regret running away, Grant. I needed to get away from reminders of you and I’ll do it a hundred more times if I want.” Ignoring his growl, I press on, though it’s difficult to maintain the upper hand when I’m naked, except for my uniform skirt and knee-high socks. “You gave me a home and everything I could ever want, but…don’t you know I would trade it all to have just you? Only you? And you took yourself away from me.” I push his big shoulders futilely. “I’m in love with you. And I never want to talk to you again!”

Apart from running away, I’m not sure I’ve ever caught Grant off guard.

But I have. He opens his mouth to speak and closes it again, seeming to struggle through a breath. “Sienna,” he says gruffly. “Love isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for you. You consume me. You hold my soul in your precious hands. I’m so in love with you, I have to temper my actions

or they would terrify you. By the end of the day, you’ll realize how deep my feelings run. Can you trust me on that?”

Well I guess I can’t be mad anymore.

My heart is lodged in my throat and it’s so happy, it’s ticking like a speeding clock. He loves me. Grant loves me. There’s so much that needs explaining, but having his love overflows my cup and I find myself nodding, a smile stretching my mouth. “Yes.” He exhales in a rush.

And then his eyes cloud with lust. A lot like the kind I’m experiencing.

I’m naked on the seat, nothing but a flap of plaid covering my sex, and when Grant’s mouth falls to my breasts, I can do nothing but thread my fingers through his hair, holding him there while he sucks my nipples greedily, his cheeks hollowing with the effort. His ministrations are enough to make me climax, but before the tide rises, his mouth trails lower and attacks my womanhood. There’s no other term for it. He closes his lips around the entire sensitized area and twists his face, kissing my private flesh the way he’d kiss my mouth.

“Ohhh,” I moan at the new sensation. “That feels s-so good.”

Grant’s hands slide under my bottom and grip my cheeks, lifting my lower body up toward his ravaging mouth. He feasts on me like someone eats a lengthwise slice of watermelon and my thighs fall helplessly open to receive his treatment. My usually stoic and exacting stepbrother licks me in a way that is uncharacteristically messy, growling as he drags his tongue up and down, seesawing it between my folds, before targeting my clitoris. He squeezes my backside in a bruising manner, using his hold to ride me up and down his flickering tongue. Up, down, up, down.

Sidetosidetosidetoside. I claw at the door, the seat, my hair. It’s a divine torture I’m being subjected to and the orgasm slams into me so fast, my back is propelled off the seat with the force of my scream.

“Grant!”

I’ve been shot into another level of existence, my flesh quickening and trembling with the intensity of my peak. While I whimper and sob, twisting on the seat, Grant continues to lap at me, kissing up the moisture coating my upper thighs and sex. He massages my bottom rhythmically, groaning at my taste and pumping his lap against the seat. Looking down at his beloved head, I have the feeling nothing is ever going to be the same again.

I have no idea how right I am.

When Grant carries my limp body, wrapped in his jacket, into the penthouse ten minutes later, I find out nothing has been what it seems.

CHAPTER FIVE

WHEN GRANT CARRIES me into the penthouse, the place is in utter shambles.

Artwork has been torn off the walls, fist-sized holes punched clear through the middle. Furniture is upended, mirrors are shattered and glass shards lie in piles everywhere.

“Who did this?” I say in alarm, my hand curling in his shirt. “Were we robbed?”

“No, princess,” Grant responds, jaw popping. “I was home when security called to report you missing. This is my handiwork.”

“Oh.” I lay my head on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Possessions can be replaced. You can’t.”

Warmth settles in my middle and I smile into his neck, getting a low grunt in response.

I’ve never been invited inside Grant’s bedroom before, so when he casually carries me in that direction, I perk up with excitement. I bet it’s super monotone, with lots of dark, manly colors and a work station. Maybe a pullup bar and an exercise area, too, since he’s in wicked amazing shape.

Not that he’s ever taken his clothes off in front of me, but his corded forearms and tight buns suggest he manages to squeeze in gym time on the regular.

Wait a minute. Am I going to see him with his clothes off now?

I glance up at his face, but he gives away nothing. Although…do I detect the ghost of a smile? Yes, I think I do.

I’m prepared for an expensive yet tasteful man-dwelling when Grant kicks open the door to his bedroom—and that’s what I get. Mostly. What I never expected was for the walls to be covered in paintings. Of me. I’ve been painted while studying, while leaning over the railing of the balcony, smiling impishly at Grant as we play a game of chess. My mind is playing catch up, trying to absorb what I’m seeing, when the largest painting of all draws my attention. There is a fireplace straight ahead and above it, a painting stretches all the way to the vaulted ceiling. In it, I’m lying in a bed,

sheets twisted strategically around my body to cover my private parts. Just barely. My blonde hair fans out around me, my eyes beckoning whoever looks at the painting closer.

“In a way, I guess you could say we’ve been falling asleep together every night.” Grant sets me down gently on his huge king bed, easing the coat off and once again leaving me in nothing but my short, plaid skirt and socks. “Now I’ll get to hold you for real.” He laughs quietly, averting his gaze. “Provided you’re not scared of me after I finish explaining everything.”

I lean back on my hands and watch his hungry eyes rake over my bare breasts. “I could never be scared of you, Grant,” I murmur, meaning it with my whole heart. “Never.”

After running his touch up my thighs, he steps away and crosses to a liquor cart, pouring amber liquid into a tumbler and taking a long sip.

“Come with me and we’ll find out.”

My pulse skips a little at his ominous tone, but I slide off the bed and follow Grant toward a short hallway at the back of his bedroom. It leads to a single door and he hesitates before pushing it open, gesturing for me to go inside. I hear him swallow hard as I pass…into a room full of monitors. It takes me a few moments to realize what I’m seeing. On one monitor, the inside of my Time Management classroom is displayed. On another, my aerobics gym at school. The rear seat of the SUV that transports me to finishing school and back is shown on another.

My bed. The desk where I do my classwork.

Not my bathroom, thankfully.

But everywhere else is there, documenting my days, second by second.

I think I’m supposed to be righteously angry. I think to most people this would be wrong. An invasion of privacy. I can’t account for why it makes liquid heat pool between my thighs. Or why it makes me feel so secure and loved and happy. I almost can’t stand how much. I want to rub my cheeks on the glowing screens and laugh. Grant has been right beside me, caring for me, every single moment of the last year. This is how a man who thrives on control needs to love his woman. And wrong or right, I love being under his control. Because I know the truth.

The truth is, I have all the control.

I won’t wield my power often, but a single tear from my eye can shatter his world, so I’ll let him watch me on his cameras and keep me safe. It’s only fair.

Grant’s breath on my neck makes my head fall back on a moan. He pulls me up on my toes with a forearm and locks my backside to his lap, stroking his tongue up my neck.

“I’m obsessed with every breath out of your mouth, Sienna. Every blink of your big eyes. Every smile, pout and giggle. Your heart, your humor, your logic and compassion. I see it all from this room. This room where I’ve suffered, fucking my hand every night like an animal, waiting for this day.” He wraps my hair in a fist and pulls, baring his teeth against the flesh beneath my ear. “Tonight you’ll take away Daddy’s pain.”

A shiver passes through me, carrying with it a sense of rightness. I’m in the exact right place I’m supposed to be. “What would you do if all the cameras made me run?

His fingertips bite into my waist. “I’d catch you.”

I circle my bottom against his thick bulge, grinding back and making him groan. “Would you let me go if I kicked and screamed?”

He pulls me up higher and tighter against his body, his breath coasting over my neck as both of us survey the wall of monitors. “Which answer would you like?” His right hand drops to reach up under my skirt to grab hold of my sex. “The truth? Or a lie that will let me keep the illusion of being a gentleman where you’re concerned?”

My nipples harden into tight puckers. “Take me to bed, please,” I gasp.

His finger tucks between the lips of my womanhood and gives my clitoris one light stroke before he takes his hand back. “We’re not done, princess.”

I sway and he catches me. “Oh?” Grant walks me forward toward the desk that is positioned in front of the monitors. Without turning around, I sense him reaching into his jacket pocket. And then he’s reaching around to set down two brochure-sized envelopes in front of me. I pick up the first one and open it, frowning over the certificate that slides out into my hand. My name is on the top and beneath are several lines of legal jargon. “What is this?”

“That’s the deed to the private island I bought you,” he murmurs into my hair, his hands riding up my hips and waist to fondle my breasts. “Look

at the date.”

“This…” After finding out I own an island, I can barely concentrate on anything, but I study the small printed numbers in the upper right hand corner of the page. “You bought me an island the same day we met?”

“Yes. And we’re going there tomorrow for a month. That’s why you needed the summer clothes, though I doubt you’ll be wearing any of it.”

With a sob, I try to turn around and throw myself into Grant’s arms, but he holds me still. “Open the other one first, Sienna.”

Desperate to be held by Grant, I rush through opening the second envelope. This one, I understand on sight. It’s the legal documentation naming Grant Foster as my guardian. The term begins the day we met and… “It ended when I turned eighteen.”

Grant confirms with a gruff sound. “Sienna.” He turns me around, his brow furrowed as he searches for words. “You were mine the day we met.

When I found out how carelessly you’d been raised by your mother…I couldn’t believe anyone would treat you so poorly. You’d been pawned off on strangers your whole life and there she was, about to do it again. I couldn’t allow it to happen, so I became your guardian. I intercepted your mother at the airport and called in a favor, refusing to let their plane take off to Paris until the paperwork was signed. I needed you to be mine, in every single sense of the word. Except one.” His mouth interlocks with mine. “I knew I had to wait to be inside you.”

My stepbrother cups my backside, boosting me up and I wrap my legs around his waist with a whimper. “Why?” Again, he struggles for the right words. “My guardianship over you ended when you turned eighteen, yes, but the contract dates kept me in control of your assets and trust fund from your mother until yesterday. I couldn’t sleep with you when you were financially dependent on me, badly as I wanted to. That would have been taking advantage. And I’ve had a lot of dishonorable thoughts about you, Sienna. Far too many to name. But I couldn’t allow my actions to match those thoughts. The day we met, I vowed to treat you with care. Like you’ve deserved all along. It’s why I stayed away for the last five days. I didn’t trust myself anymore—and I’m so sorry I hurt you in the process.” He turns and walks us back into the hallway, toward the bedroom. “I want my future wife to know I acted with as much honor as I could. Your assets are no longer in my control. They’re

yours. You have independence if you want it, but I’m asking…no, I’m begging my future wife to choose me all on her own.”

“Future wife?” I breathe. “Aren’t you worried what people will think when you marry your stepsister?”

“I only care about your judgment,” he says. “And thankfully, I have enough money to tell anyone who runs their mouth to fuck off.” He searches my face. “Choose me, Sienna. Out loud.”

“I choose you. I want to be your wife,” I whisper ardently, nuzzling his neck. “And…” “Yes?” he prompts hoarsely.

I hide my face in his shoulder. “Take care of me like I’m your little girl.”

A fierce rumbled passes through him. “Until death, Sienna.”

We reach the balcony doors of Grant’s bedroom and he throws them open to reveal a fireworks display happening over the Hudson. Pinks and whites and purples—just for me. All the buildings along the skyline are lit up with pink lights in their windows and it’s the most breathtaking sight I’ve ever seen.

“It’s all for you, princess.” He slings a forearm under my bottom, freeing his left hand to produce one final item from his jacket pocket. A pink diamond ring set among several smaller stones. “Be mine forever.”

I start to shake as he slides the heavy engagement ring onto my finger.

The reflection of the fireworks goes off in its depths and a tear rolls down my cheek. “Yes. Yes.” Before the final yes is spoken, Grant’s mouth finds mine in a voracious kiss. Both of his big hands find my backside again and mold me roughly.

“I’m going to make love to you now, Sienna,” he rasps, striding toward the bed. “And I don’t know if I can be gentle after waiting this long.”

When he throws me down on my back and shreds my uniform skirt in his hands with a growl, I have to agree. But I don’t want gentle. “I’ve been waiting as long as you have,” I say, watching him unbutton his shirt and strip it off to reveal hard-packed muscles—and my name in black, blocklettered ink across his rigid stomach. “Grant,” I whisper in awe, trembling when he drops his dress pants and kicks them aside, climbing on the bed and aligning his hard, hot body with mine.

Before he can kiss me, he stops, a mere breath away from my lips. “Is that really what you want to call me, Sienna?”

“No,” I admit on a rush of breath, writhing beneath him on the soft mattress. “What does it mean that I want to call you Daddy?”

“It means you sense what I’ve always known.” He angles his body to the side and trails a hand down my shuddering stomach. “You’re my little girl. Your pussy belongs to one man…” With two fingers, he gathers wetness from inside my slick folds and starts a slow, circular massage of my clitoris. “And that man keeps you safe and buys you pretty toys. He kisses you every morning. Makes sure the boys stay away. And at night, he comes to play.”

My pulse pounds in my ears, my toes curling into the luxurious bedding. How could I not know this is what I’ve been craving without realizing it for so long? I love having my own thoughts and feelings and opinions, but the idea of being doted on and spoiled by this man…it means I’m safe and loved and I need those things to be complete. Grant is the only one who could make letting go, letting someone else take charge all right.

“How do we play, Daddy?”

Grant bares his teeth and slowly sinks a finger inside me. I suck in a breath and squirm around the intrusion. Wanting more and less pressure, all at the same time. “Too tight. I can’t wait another second.” He hooks his finger and tickles a spot inside of me that brings a cry of his name to my lips. “We play hard, little girl. Sometimes I will put you in a pretty dress and tease your pussy for hours, getting harder and harder as you giggle and try to squirm away, but tonight is kind of like…a test.”

I give Daddy a wide-eyed look as he pushes me onto my back and shoves down the waistband of his briefs, that large appendage between his legs bobbing free. Wanting to be a good girl, I open my thighs like I know he wants. “What kind of test, Daddy?”

He pushes the head of his long, thick erection inside of me and stops, his chest heaving with visible need. “We’re going to find out if you want me to be happy,” he gasps.

“Of course I do.”

His lips press mine open, his tongue entering me in a long, dizzying stroke. His kiss makes something tighten in my belly, but above all makes me feel cherished. “I’ll be so happy if I can get my cock extra deep inside

you, princess. It might hurt a little, but you’d make me feel so good. Better than I’ve ever felt.”

“Okay.” Chewing my lip, I nod. “I want you to feel good.”

“Of course you do,” he croons into my neck, his hands shoving my knees even wider on the bed, opening me so wide that a blush heats my cheeks. “Good girl. Stay just like that.” His hips rear back and drive forward, breaking through the thin barrier inside me and planting his hard flesh so deep, it must be prodding my stomach. My lungs empty, heels digging into the mattress, but I’m pinned and there’s no way to escape the extreme pressure. “Fuck, that’s so goddamn sweet and tight. Had to protect this hot little cunt from the horny boys, and damn did it pay off,” Daddy groans, grinding against me with his head thrown back. “God, you’re perfect, suctioning my dick like a greedy mouth. Christ. You’ve almost passed the test, princess.”

“Almost?”

He grunts and pins my wrists above my head, leaving me even more vulnerable. I don’t think I’ll like having even more control taken away when the pain is throbbing between my legs. But something amazing happens. The lack of control makes the pain turn dull, unimportant. What’s more important than pleasing Daddy?

And his moans and slack jaw tell me he’s extra pleased.

My body thrills in response, sending more moisture to the place where we’re joined.

“Every time I thrust inside you, I feel happier. More and more every time. Give me a brave smile, princess, and let me slide in and out until I get to the end.”

“How will I know when you get there?”

He licks a path straight up my throat. “You’ll have a pussy full of Daddy’s love, little girl.”

The words trigger something naughty in me and I not only give him a brave smile, I pump my hips enthusiastically, helping him get closer and closer to end. He loves that. His big chest shudders with an exhalation of my name and his heavy flesh swells inside me, his hands manacling my wrists tighter on the mattress. There’s a twinge of pleasure inside me that moves lower, constricting my womanhood and I whimper, tossing my head

on the bed, watching almost blindly as the fireworks continue to bloom just beyond the balcony.

“Oh God,” I sob, the telltale signs of a climax bearing down on me. But not just any climax. The culmination of pleasure, pain and pressure is so much to bear and my body rears up, gasping as I accept Daddy’s cock faster and faster. Salty perspiration drips from his shoulders onto my bouncing breasts and he groans at the sight, pinning me down harder and ramming into me incessantly while I scream and dig my nails into his back.

“Be warned, little girl,” he grates at my temple. “I have no idea what this rampant obsession will become now that I’ve sampled this perfect pussy. I won’t get enough. Ever. But I’m going to ride you into the fucking ground trying to get an ounce of relief.”

His words send the pleasure deeper, spreading it all through my belly and loins until I burst, my orgasm soaking his driving erection, filling the room with wet noises while he continues to enter me in mighty pumps. I’m engulfed in a dizzy spell during which all I can do is absorb the bliss and chant his name over and over and over. “Daddy, Daddy.”

I watch through my pleasure haze as he stiffens above me, groaning so loud it hurts my ears, and then I’m being filled with liquid heat. He thrusts his still-thick flesh into the wonderful mess, creating more of it, sending his love spurting out onto my thighs and the bedclothes.

“Sienna,” he rasps above me. “My Sienna.” I free my wrists from his grasp so I can caress his face, but I pause when I notice the hunger still hasn’t faded from his eyes. “Christ, look what you do to me. I’m still hard, princess.” Without warning, I’m flipped onto my stomach and yanked up onto my hands and knees. His front curves over my back and I luxuriate in the feeling of his mouth kissing my neck, my ear. “I love you. Jesus, I love you so much,” he breathes into my hair. “Please forgive me for fucking the virginity out of you, princess. It won’t always be like this.”

I toss my hair back and give him an innocent look over my shoulder.

“But I love the way you fuck me, Daddy.”

“My God,” he grinds out, ramming his stiffness inside me, hard enough to lever me off the bed several inches. “I’m going to give you everything, Sienna. You already have me. My heart, my soul, my devotion until the end of time.”

“You have all of me, too, Grant,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”

“Thank God for that.” He starts to thrust, hard enough to make my breasts slap together. “Now. Cheek to the mattress, little girl. It’s going to be a long night.”

EPILOGUE The next day

I’M IN HEAVEN. When I wake up the morning after Grant asks me to be his wife, we’re already on his jet on our way to my private island. I yawn into his chest and he strokes my hair, calling to the flight attendant to bring me a mug of hot chocolate. I’m straddling Grant, covered in a cashmere blanket, my knees brushing the heated leather seat beneath us.

Reality rushes in all at once. “Oh!” I sit up and the blanket falls away, revealing my naked body. Grant peruses me with an obsessive ownership that makes me shiver, but even in my excitement, I can’t shake my sudden worry. “What about finishing school? I haven’t completed the term yet.

There are tests a-and…”

His laugh sounds more like a rasp. “Sienna, you’ll go back whenever you damn well feel like it. It was built with your happiness and safety in mind. It would cease to exist without you.” He plays with a lock of my hair, studying it like a precious artifact. “As would I, princess.”

“Grant,” I breathe, nestling closer and feeling his hard length prod my bare womanhood through his pants. “You don’t have to spoil me to keep me. I’m yours.”

“Yes, you are. And that means I will spoil you as much and as often as I damn well please. Don’t take that honor away from me.” He snags my hips and rolls my lower body against his, groaning heartily in his throat. The flight attendant sets down my mug of hot chocolate on a side table and having forgotten her presence, I rush to cover my nudity, but Grant stops me. “Our staff has been briefed on what to expect and what’s expected of them. If they walk through our home and find me pounding your tight cunt on the floor—or hear you screaming daddy harder please from our bedroom—they will continue their duties without batting an eyelash. Your pleasure has no boundaries in our world.”

“Our world is crazy,” I whisper, making him laugh.

He caresses my face adoringly. “I keep forgetting you’ve only been aware of my utter obsession with you for less than twenty-four hours. I’m afraid it’s not going to get any less overwhelming, considering we’re on our way to explore the private island I’ve spent the year building for you.”

He’s not wrong.

Moments later, we’re flying over the most enchanting place I’ve ever seen—and that includes in movies and on the internet. It’s lush and tropical, bordered by white sand beaches and cerulean ocean water. I’m still catching my breath when we land and Grant carries me off the plane, cradled tightly to his chest. I was able to throw on one of my new thong bikinis in the jet bathroom and I’m grateful for my abbreviated attire when I step into the drenching sunlight because my skin is able to soak up every glorious ray of perfection.

“Oh Grant,” I breathe several minutes later when a white limousine drops us off outside of a luxurious mansion. The grounds stretch further than my eyes can see. A massive stone fountain spouts water in honor of our arrival, native birds chirping and cawing from the palm trees. The ocean crashes in the distance and I run laughing from one end of the veritable palace to the other trying to reach the ocean view, but I’m constantly distracted by all the wondrous personal touches throughout. My initials—or my future initials, rather—are carved into the sweeping fireplace, portraits and paintings of me are framed on every surface, every wall, and unlike Grant’s penthouse, there is color everywhere! Pinks and greens and golds.

“I love it,” I squeal, dashing out onto the balcony just off the grandest living room known to man. “We need more pictures of you, though—” I cut myself off with a gasp when I finally see what awaits me below on the beach. Wow. The ocean goes on and on forever, blue and bottomless and breathtaking. But it’s not what makes my heart pound. No…there are candles everywhere. They stretch up and down the beach endlessly, flickering and glowing in the fading daylight. A long, white satin runner cuts through them on the sand, leading to a beautiful arched trellis covered in tropical flowers of every color. A preacher stands beneath it with a bible in his hands, waiting with a patient smile.

“I can’t live another minute without having you as my wife, Sienna,” Grant growls in my ear, drawing my back against his hard chest. “You’re

the only thing in this world I will ever love. Let me call you mine so I can begin laying the world at your feet.”

Turning, I go up on my toes and kiss his lips. “I love you, Grant. And just watch, I’m going to lay the world at your feet, too,” I murmur. “Now let’s go get married.”

Grant Five Years Later WHAT WORD IS stronger than obsession?

If one exists, it describes how I feel about my wife.

I’m a man on the verge of cracking down the middle at the mere suggestion of her pain. I worship and adore her…violently. Of course that violence would never cause my Sienna harm—I’d drive a stake through my heart first—but the violence collides inside me with the fiercest of love, possession and fear of losing her until I spend my every waking moment shaken.

Yes, this love for my wife never stops leaving me shaken.

True to her word, she has laid the world at my feet. Given me a child, her love and loyalty. Happiness that knows no bounds.

I lean in close to watch her on one of my office monitors now, cataloguing the graceful way she moves on the screen. She’s dancing from room to room of our penthouse like a sweet, little ballerina, well aware she’s being watched like a hawk. Well aware I’m salivating over her sweet backside and high, round tits, my cock hard with the need to be inside of her. Sienna arrives late for our playtime purposefully on occasion, as she’s apparently going to do this afternoon, and she knows it drives me to the brink of madness.

I allow it.

I allow it because my young wife has been very understanding about my protective nature where she’s concerned and what it leads me to do. Such as locking her away from the world so only I have access to her beauty. Her heart. They’re mine and I’m a miser with them. If she leaves the safety of

our home, she does it with an army of bodyguards and even then, I’m a wreck until she’s inside again, safe from harm.

I run my fingertip along the screen, tracing it down the line of her back.

“Come to me now, princess.”

As if Sienna hears me, she takes one final peek inside our son’s room to make sure he’s napping and exchanges a few words with the nanny. And then she’s on her way to me at the office. Where I wait like a prisoner about to be released from solitary confinement. One touch from my wife and I’ll be able to breathe and think again. She’s sunshine in a world of nighttime. I need her as surely as I need the blood in my veins and oxygen in my lungs.

As usual, when she’s traveling the eight blocks from our home to my office, I’m on edge, watching her being shuffled by bodyguards into the SUV, bracing during the short ride for some unforeseen force to take her from me. I don’t relax until she’s inside my private elevator and smiling up at the camera, giving me a little pinky wave.

God, my love for her could crush me in its intensity. It’s alive and it never stops expanding. I do everything in my power to make her happy. Her happiness is what fuels me. After she was given the island, I didn’t stop there. I’ve erected buildings in her name, I’ve purchased her a private park in the middle of the city with ten-foot-high wrought iron gates around the perimeter. I’ve drenched her in diamonds. I know what I give is enough for Sienna, but it’s never enough for me. She will have everything.

The private door of my elevator opens soundlessly and there she is—my reason for breathing. She’s in a short, pink sundress and her favorite white Mary Janes. Immediately, I know what kind of mood she’s in because she’s twirling a lock of hair around her finger and twisting side to side. She needs her Daddy and my dick throbs in anticipation.

Originally, one of the reasons I sent Sienna to finishing school was to have her instructed in the ways of being a society wife. My society wife.

How laughable those intentions were. After we returned from our first trip to the island, I held a gala to introduce my new wife to the world. I wanted her to know how proud I am to be her husband. But all those eyes on my Sienna snapped something inside of me and I ended up dragging her to the closest dark room and fucking her roughly against the door, snarling at her for being so goddamn beautiful. Galas and formal functions have been few

and far between since then, so the skills she learned at finishing school have not been put to the test often.

Society wife she is not—thank God. But she is my little girl, through and through.

Sienna walks to me now where I sit at my desk, coming around the edge slowly, shyly, still twirling that hair around her finger. “Sorry for being late, Daddy.”

“Are you?” I pat my knee. “How sorry?” She perches herself on my thigh and the heat of her pussy makes my teeth clench. Fuck, she’s always ready. Even in the middle of the night when I mount her in a fit of hunger, her cunt is always drenched, as if she’s been dreaming of me. “Did you fall asleep?”

We both know very well she didn’t fall asleep, but the games between us are not only natural for me and Sienna, they’re what we need. We fall into our roles effortlessly.

“Yes,” she whispers, eyes downcast.

I brush her hair back, letting my fingertips trail down her smooth neck.

“Did you have the pillow stuffed between your thighs again?”

More color suffuses her face and she nods.

“Did you try to fuck the pillow, princess?”

“Daddy,” she gasps. “No!” “You don’t have to lie to me,” I say, resting my hand on her thigh and letting it slowly travel beneath her dress, higher and higher. “I think it’s time I showed you what your body is asking for when you rub your pussy against the pillow.”

When I hook a finger in her panties and drag them down her legs, her tits rise and fall faster. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh.” I glance toward the door. “You don’t want everyone knowing you’ve been grinding on your pillow, do you? And that Daddy has to show you why?”

Her headshake is vigorous. “No.” “Good girl.” I stand and settle her backside on the desk, unzipping my pants and guiding my cock out. It jerks in my hands when she gasps, reacting like she’s never seen it before, cream beading on the tip and dripping onto her dress. “Pull the top of your dress down, princess.”

Her fingers hesitate on the bodice. “But…why?”

Briefly letting go of my cock, I cover her hand with mine and we pull the material down together, popping her gorgeous tits free. “They excite me, little girl. That’s why.” I take hold of my shaft again and position it against the snug hole between her thighs. “And this is what happens when Daddy gets excited. Isn’t that nice?” I grit my teeth and push a few inches inside of her, using my free arm to capture and steady her when she pretends to scramble away. “No, no, princess. Let it happen. You did this.

You knew I was watching from my camera above your bed. Watching your little, bare butt cheeks pumping up and back on the pillow. Now it’s time you learn to ride me instead.”

She shoves at my shoulders. “But…b-but you’re inside me—” I cut her off with a hard kiss, stroking my tongue against hers until she stops struggling. “Doesn’t it feel good, though?” I whisper, pushing the rest of my cock deeper inside of her until she’s whimpering into my neck, her legs trembling. “Let it feel good, princess.”

My desk rocks under my next three pumps and she starts to moan, hesitantly at first and then with abandon, her thighs lifting to lock around my hips. “Oh. Daddy.”

I fall back into my leather wingback, bringing Sienna with me. My fingertips dig into the arms of the chair while I watch my beloved ride me.

The city is spread out behind me, reflected back in her eyes and I vow to give her every single square inch of it, as surely as she’s conquered every single square inch of my heart.

THE END

Want to read Ophelia’s story?

PRETTY DARING by Jessa Kane is available now!

Ophelia has always been treated like a spoiled, little rich girl. Just once, she wants to be seen as a woman. When she collides with her housekeeper’s son on the day he’s released from prison, she gets her wish—and then some.

After seven years behind bars, Ezra can’t control himself around such a sweet, young thing like Ophelia. She’s claiming to be his mother’s neighbor and he senses she’s lying…but he’ll have to worry about the details later.

After she’s been claimed…

Get it here: https://bit.ly/2mkqeSX